


Better the Devil you Know

by indigovioletstargazer



Category: Homeland
Genre: Arguing, F/M, Friendship, Humor, Love, Unrequited Love, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-16
Updated: 2014-09-26
Packaged: 2018-01-04 20:49:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 13,725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1085544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/indigovioletstargazer/pseuds/indigovioletstargazer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This began life as a collection of Homeland one-shots, mostly Carrie x Quinn - written in response to prompts & my random ideas. A few chapters in it evolves into a multi-chapter hot, beardy Navy SEALS drama/thriller/love quadrangle! Spoilers for S3.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Better the Devil you Know

**Author's Note:**

> Please feel free to send me any prompts. If I think it is something that I can attempt for you, then I will.
> 
> ...
> 
> I wrote this short Homeland fic in response to the hilarious prompt from badgirls16 on Tumblr...
> 
> Carrie & Quinn forced to go to the Langley Halloween party in costume…
> 
> (Warning: Contains some spoilers for Season 3 Ep 8.).
> 
> ...

"Can I get you a drink?" The male voice was semi-muffled by the loose, white cotton shroud covering his entire body. "A soft drink of course."

"Who's actually under this old sheet?" Carrie frowned and hid the beer bottle behind her back. She peered closely through the two small jagged holes, that seemed to have been roughly cut out with a knife. She could just about see the cool blue eyes underneath. "Peter Quinn? You reckon this counts as a Halloween costume?!"

"All I had in my apartment," Quinn sounded hurt. "I'm a ghost which is at least appropriate for this type of party. Unlike some of the other costumes I can see…"

"What's wrong with _my_ costume?" Carrie's hand darted to the small red horns perched on top of her blonde locks.

"A red plastic hairband hardly counts as a Halloween costume," snorted Quinn.

"I'm wearing Prada though." Carrie smoothed fingers down her red leather skirt. " _The Devil wears Prada_ …"

"Trust you to be clever and obscure," Quinn's eyes never left Carrie's black glossy fingernails trailing down to her knee.

"Oh pardon me for not coming predictably dressed as a witch," sniped Carrie, gesturing to their cackling colleagues. "Or as one of the other eight ghosts in this room."

"I actually thought you might come as a _Mummy_ ," Quinn's accusing eyebrow arched underneath the white sheet.

"Shhh…" Carrie's eyes darted nervously, checking if anyone else had heard.

"You need to tell Saul," Quinn leant close to Carrie's ear. She could feel his warm breath through the cotton fabric. "Soon."

"It's none of your business Quinn." Carrie took a defiant swig from her beer bottle.

"It could be my business," Quinn's grip was gentle on Carrie's wrist as he manoeuvred the bottle of alcohol away from her lips. "If you'd let me help you…"

"Help?!" Carrie was incredulous and mocking. "From you!" She shook her head. "The guy who actually shot me!"

"I had to. You know that." Quinn sounded strained. "I didn't trust anyone else to take the shot… but if I'd known about your baby, of course I'd have never…"

"Brody's baby!" Carrie reached for a nearby chair to sink into.

"Carrie, you can't keep putting yourself in danger." Quinn pulled the white cotton sheet up and over his head and plonked himself down next to her.

"What am I going to do?" Carrie stared at Quinn's unusually flattened hair. She fought against the urge to spike it up with her fingertips.

"Well, I'm here for you," Quinn swallowed tightly. "Always have been and always will be. I've got your back."

"Thanks," Carrie looked down and tugged at her waistband. "Hell, this skirt is so uncomfortable. It's getting too tight."

"Maybe the Devil should be thinking about maternity clothing instead of Prada?" Quinn eyed her slightly rounded tummy affectionately.

"You know any good stores?" sniffed Carrie.

"Well, Julia got all hers from…" Quinn stopped as if deciding that he was revealing too much.

"You know for somebody who says he's got my back… I know nothing about you." Carrie hissed. "You're still a mystery."

"I don't have to be," Quinn tentatively reached for Carrie's hand. "You already know more about me than most." He eyed their dancing colleagues. Saul was wobbling around dressed as a menacing pumpkin. "You could know everything. You only need to ask me."

"Maybe it's best I don't," Carrie withdrew her hand carefully. "Maybe I'll stick with what I know. With _who_ I know."

"Brody?!" Quinn shook his head. "You just can't let him go, can you? Even after everything he's done!"

"Better the Devil you know," Carrie's eyes had brightened and she was staring distractedly beyond Quinn.

"More like speak of the Devil and he's bound to appear," Quinn sighed as he turned and spotted the tall, bald figure entering through the doorway.


	2. Only a Fool

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this Homeland fic in response to the fab prompt from mississippi-moonchild on Tumblr...
> 
> A fanfic where Peter Quinn turns out to be hot bearded guys friends...
> 
> (Set during S3 E9 -"One Last Time")  
> ...

"I didn't expect to see _you_ here." Peter Quinn strode across the room and followed Carrie's gaze through the huge window. He spotted a bald head bobbing amongst the dark haired runners in the distance and squinted. "No way! Is that…?"

Carrie turned awkwardly, arm in sling, lips twisting in annoyance at the intrusion. "Saul didn't tell you?"

"Saul said he'd found some guy in Caracas for his Javadi play," Quinn shook his head in disbelief. "Mentioned these guys were doing some intensive training with him here at Dam Neck."

"Guess Saul is keeping his cards close to his chest," Carrie shrugged. "Some elements of the CIA might not approve of Brody's involvement."

"Damn right," Quinn huffed, before biting his lip.

"Why are you here?" Carrie craned her neck, trying to see where the runners had gone. "Come to apologise for shooting me?"

"No, why would I?" Quinn jutted his chin in mock defiance. "I followed a direct order. I'd have more to apologise for if I'd allowed you to chase Paul Franklin into that motel room."

"Well, thanks for doing your job so well," Carrie flinched as she readjusted her sling. "So why are you here?"

"Social reasons," Quinn looked secretive.

"Peter Quinn actually has friends?" Carrie arched an amused eyebrow.

"Is that so hard to believe?" Quinn's raised his own eyebrow, mirroring hers. "I do recall assuring you that I was _pretty likeable_ once."

"And _extremely reliable_ as I remember," Carrie smiled at the memory. "So which of the hunky bearded guys is unlucky enough to be your friend?"

"Yousef," Quinn mumbled. "Turani."

"The very lovely Doctor Turani?" Carrie was intrigued.

Quinn nodded. "We've been best mates for years."

"Doctor Turani's been looking after Brody," Carrie sighed. "He seems like a good guy."

"He's the best," Quinn checked his beeping cell phone. "Ah, a text from the man himself. He'll be here shortly… Turani's just got back from his run."

"You know I overhead Doctor Turani telling Brody about a good friend of his," Carrie eyed Quinn, suddenly suspicious. "A friend who's incapable of telling a colleague how much he cares for her."

"What?" Quinn scowled and put his hands in his pockets. "Why would Turani be having a conversation like that with Brody?"

"They were talking about women. Like these Marines and Navy SEALS do. Then they got serious… talked about Turani's family… about falling in love." Carrie shrugged. "Turani said that this good friend lost his girlfriend and son because he emotionally detached himself from them. He did more and more missions, became mentally isolated. Found it harder to look them in the eye. She left him."

"She'll be better off without him." Quinn swallowed tightly and looked away. "He sounds like an idiot."

"Apparently Turani's friend likes someone new, but he won't ever attempt a relationship again," Carrie pressed on, analysing Quinn's expression. "Turani said that his friend is too afraid to reconnect with his heart in case it gets broken again."

"Turani spouted all this psycho-analytical bullcrap to _Brody_!" Quinn coughed as he laughed cynically. "Honestly… Turani thinks everyone should be loved up and in touch with their feelings… playing happy families just like him."

"How come you guys are best friends?" Carrie asked, tossing her hair.

"We did a free fall parachuting course together," Quinn composed himself. "Turani took me under his wing. We were opposites. I'd never had a friend before, whilst he was Mr Popular. I was a rebel, he did everything by the book. We had each other's backs."

"Still do, don't we Quinn?" The southern drawl from behind made Carrie jump.

"Hey watch your arm there, Miss Mathison." Yousef Turani grinned and patted Carrie's shoulder gently. "You wanna go see Brody in his bunk? He's sore! He did well today though. Ran miles without stopping. Whatever fire you put under his ass last week has worked a treat."

Carrie's eyes widened at the shirtless Yousef Turani, before she glanced awkwardly at Quinn. "Ummm… Yeah I'll go check on Brody. See you around, Quinn."

"You know her?" Turani inclined his head and wiped the rivulets off his forehead with a towel. "The CIA woman who's been hanging around here?"

Quinn nodded and sighed. "I work with Carrie."

"Hell, she's not _the one_ is she?" Turani stroked his beard as he stared after Carrie thoughtfully. "The one you're too scared to tell…"

"No," Quinn shook his head. "Only a fool would fall for Carrie Mathison."


	3. Messages and Miracles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This brilliant prompt was from fava-beans-and-chianti on Tumblr...
> 
> Quinn visits Carrie post-op. she is drugged up on morphine and is barely conscious when she says something that piques his interest in her past.
> 
> I'll admit I found this one very challenging, but here goes...
> 
> Set early in S3 E9 - "One Last Time" (and expands on what Carrie told Brody in S2 E12 "The Choice").
> 
> ...

 

"Let's go," Carrie stirred and shuffled in her hospital bed, eyes still tightly closed. "C'mon! He says it's time to go."

"Carrie?" Quinn pulled his visitor's chair closer. He cleared his throat and reached across to try and calm her.

"Please come," Carrie seemed completely unaware of Quinn as she pleaded with a visage in her internal world. "He's bought a camper so we can all go together."

Quinn frowned and wondered if she was dreaming or reliving a memory.

"It was in the stars." Carrie started writhing and sobbing. "He saw the message. He's so excited. You have to come to the Great Lakes with us."

"Shhh..." Quinn stroked her forearm gently, trying to avoid the cannula in the back of her hand. "It's OK."

"You'll miss the miracle." Carrie became more distraught. "It's going to happen right there. Please Mom! Dad says it's important..." She started clawing anxiously at her bed-sheets, head now flailing against her pillow. "Don't let her go to _CVS_. She'll never come back." Carrie whimpered as Quinn reached to stroke her tangled hair. "Dad! Frank! Are you listening to me?"

"Carrie, can you hear me?" Quinn whispered. "It's Quinn."

"Don't hate Mom anymore, Maggie," Carrie pleaded in a defeated tone. "It's mine and Dad's fault she's gone." She jerked and turned to face her visitor. Her gaze was unfocused at first, but she seemed to gain some sense of his presence. "Quinn?"

"Yeah?" His eyes were full of concern.

"My Dad is bipolar." Carrie looked completely disoriented. "My Mom left him the first day I went to college." She sighed and slurred slowly. "I'd believed everything my Dad had said."

"What did he say?" Quinn asked cautiously.

"He said Mom was the crazy one for not believing in the messages and miracles." Carrie murmured, still dazed.

"He was sick," Quinn shrugged, unsure what to say.

"I tried to see Dad's miracles too. Sometimes I'd pretend I could see them." Carrie's chin wobbled, tears welling. "Sometimes even Maggie said she could see them. The three of us... We drove my Mom away."

"You were a kid, Carrie." Quinn tried to reassure her.

"When I think of my Mom, she's still there shopping at _CVS_ and one day she'll return. Tell us we're going on a trip to her family's cabin." Carrie half-smiled now. "She'll have lost track of time and come home, see how well Dad is... and she'll stay forever."

"That's your biggest wish?" Quinn asked softly.

"There was no miracle at the Great Lakes." Carrie exhaled, completely subdued. "Me and Dad cried for days. He talked about suicide... That's when Mom and Maggie first told Dad to go see a Doctor." Carrie groaned. "Me too. Said we might both be sick."

"It's all in the past, Carrie." Quinn patted her uninjured shoulder gently. "You're doing great now."

"Mom loved my Dad. To stay with him the way he was for so long... if he'd been treated sooner... taken the medication... perhaps Mom would still be around. Enjoying being a Grandmother to Ruby and Josie... Looking forward to the new arrival..."

"New arrival?" Quinn frowned.

Carrie blinked back tears, "It'd be so much easier to deal with if my Mom was still around."

"What would be easier? What new arrival? You're not...?" Quinn tailed off, tasting his bile rising as he comprehended that he may have shot a pregnant woman. "Jesus, Carrie! Is the baby, ok?"

"Doctor said so." Carrie rubbed her abdomen and shuddered.

"It's a miracle." Quinn sighed with relief, raked his fingers through spiky hair.

"A curse more like." Carrie clenched and twisted the bed-sheet with her fingers.

"Don't say that. I'll keep you safe from now on," Quinn promised. "I'll help and protect you both."

"Quinn! Are you mad?" Carrie croaked and tried to sit up. "Do I look like I need help or protection?"

Quinn gazed down at Carrie in her spotty hospital gown. At her grey pallor, red rimmed eyes, greasy, knotted hair. The tubes going into her hand and nostrils. Her sling. "Yes."

"Get out of here." Carrie's eyes flashed, suddenly cognisant. "If you want to help me, then find Saul. Make sure someone is tailing Paul Franklin and Leland Bennett. Do your job!"

"Carrie," Quinn begged. "Please..."

"This protective _fatherly_ nonsense doesn't suit you," she hissed. "Get out of here. Kill some bad guys or something... Stick to what you're good at."

Quinn nodded sadly as he departed, knowing Carrie was probably right.


	4. Over the Border

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This wonderful prompt was from luckyimpression on Tumblr...
> 
> How about a Yousef/OC AU: he's single (lol etc) where one of the former wives of a known terrorist comes along for the Brody drop off mission in exchange for American citizenship and saves the day.
> 
> Set in S3 E10 - "Good Night". However, in this Alternate Universe - Yousef Turani is single and the Navy SEALS have a feisty female accompanying them on their mission to get Brody into Iran.
> 
> ...

 

"She likes you," Brody inclined his head towards the accompanying truck overtaking them on the dusty track.

"Shouldn't you be focusing on what you're gonna say once you're over the border?" Yousef Turani rolled his eyes. "Get your story straight for the Iranians?"

"I'd rather not think about meeting Danesh Akbari and Majid Javadi just yet," Brody shook his head. "Your love life is infinitely more entertaining and distracting right now."

"Love life?" Yousef waved dismissively. "Hell, I've been single for eighteen months!"

"Exactly," Brody patted Yousef's shoulder. "The gorgeous Samira Rezaei is single too. Why don't you make a move?"

"Make a move?!" Yousef squirmed. "On the feisty ex-wife of an Al-Qaeda Commander? Are you crazy?"

"You know Samira's moving to the United States after this operation," Brody leant close to his friend. "Getting citizenship for helping the CIA and you SEAL guys with this mission."

"So what?" Yousef's gaze flicked upwards. "I'll probably never see her again. America's a big place in case you hadn't noticed."

"I saw the way Samira was whispering to you in the camp this morning." Brody wouldn't let it go. "And you pair kept me awake all last night with your gossiping."

"She's a Medical Doctor like me," Yousef couldn't suppress his slow smile building as he recalled his long conversations with the beautiful Samira. "She's from the same town as my grandmother. We had a lot to talk about."

"Well, she can't keep her eyes off you," Brody's eyes twinkled as he teased. "When you were helping make breakfast for the guys, Samira was... transfixed."

Yousef smoothed his dark beard, his palm lingering over his mouth to hide his widening smile. "Maybe she likes staring at guys with beards."

"Don't be so lame... _All_ you Navy SEALS have beards!" Brody hooted. "Maybe Samira likes checking _you_ out?!"

Yousef's cheeks flushed before he retorted. "Like that blonde from the CIA who was always watching _you_?"

"Me and Carrie..." Brody's gaze clouded. "There was something... once."

"I knew it!" Yousef wagged his finger. "I could tell!"

"Stop changing the subject!" Brody composed himself and arched an eyebrow. "What are you going to do about Samira?"

"Why would a glamorous young woman be interested in a nobody like me?" Yousef shrugged humbly. "She's the most stunning girl I've ever met. Intelligent, brave, independent... I'm just an average guy."

Brody never got a chance to reply as their vehicle braked suddenly, almost hitting the truck in front. They saw their leader Azizi and the other occupants get out and stroll towards them.

"You'll walk from here." Samira's long dark lashes fluttered with trepidation as she appeared at Brody's window. "Are you ready?"

"He's ready," Yousef nodded confidently on Brody's behalf.

"Good," Samira flicked dust off her purple bejewelled hijab and tucked an errant glossy black curl underneath.

"Thanks for getting me here," Brody got out of the car and smiled at the exquisitely elegant woman. Her first-hand knowledge of the dangerous and mined terrain had got their elite team safely within a mile of the Iranian border.

"You're welcome," Samira lowered her gaze demurely and wrapped her arms tightly around her petite frame under the flowing abaya. "Be careful. Allahu Akbar."

Brody nodded solemnly and walked over towards Azizi and the other Navy SEALS who were huddled around a map.

Yousef slid across the seat and climbed out of the door where Samira waited. He nodded pensively at her, "Goodbye Doctor Rezaei."

"Please," she reprimanded him softly. "I already asked you to call me Samira."

"It was a pleasure to meet you, Samira." Yousef cleared his throat and fiddled with a button on the collar of his black robe. "Take care."

"Don't say it like that," Samira glared at him defiantly and dextrously took control of his errant buttonhole. "You'll be back within an hour. Isn't that the plan? You guys follow Brody to ensure he crosses the Iranian checkpoint, then you all return here and we drive back to the Military Airbase together?"

"I hope so." There was a tremor in Yousef's voice as he wondered if he'd ever look into her divine dark eyes again. "If it all goes according to plan."

"I have faith in you, Yousef Turani!" Samira winked and mischievously patted his beard.

Yousef blushed, the warmth from her deft fingers still lingering on his jaw. "I'll see you in an hour."

...

**Twenty two hours later**

"Hey," Brody kicked the snoozing Yousef on the sole of his shoe, before returning to his audiological vigil at their cell door. "Someone's coming. Someone's coming!"

Brody's breathing became erratic as he darted back towards Yousef, still slumped against the wall. The metal door creaked open and Majid Javadi and a guard entered their dimly lit cell. As the door banged, the guard swore in Farsi, ordering Yousef to his feet.

"My name is Nicholas Brody..." Brody tried to steady his breathing. "And I am formally seeking asylum in the Islamic Replubic of Iran."

Javadi nodded curtly, "I know who you are," before addressing Yousef in Farsi.

"Ayman Jassim," Yousef gave a false name and provided his cover story of how he'd brought Brody to Iran.

Javadi ordered the guard out of their squalid cell and sighed, "Are you ready?"

"Ready for what?" Brody twitched.

"To go with me to Tehran." Javadi smiled knowingly.

Brody nodded and inclined his head towards Yousef, "What about him?"

Javadi pulled a gun from his jacket pocket and turned, but was instantly distracted by a noisy commotion outside the cell door.

The door burst open and Samira Rezaei ran in holding a gun against the petrified guard's temple.

Javadi's lips parted in confusion, giving Yousef the split second he needed to leap and disarm Javadi, pressing the gun into his bony spine.

"Your guard is going to get my friends safely back across the border into Iraq," Brody gripped Javadi around the throat. "You and I are still going to Tehran as planned."

Javadi's eyes were venomous as he nodded his assent to Brody. He hurriedly explained to the terrified guard what he needed to do.

The trembling guard led Yousef and Samira down the corridor. He grabbed two military jackets and helmets and gestured for them to put them on. They all went outside and climbed into a filthy jeep.

They were waved through the nearby military checkpoint without incident and the guard stopped the vehicle a mile down the road. "Where do you need to go?" he asked meekly in Farsi.

"Here's just fine," Samira flashed her most charming smile, then shot the guard in the forehead without warning.

"What did you do that for?" Yousef stared in disbelief before glancing around anxiously, finding each breath harder to expel.

"Calm down! That guard might have talked and compromised Brody and Javadi getting to Tehran safely." Samira gestured to the familiar truck approaching along the track. "Anyway, here come your friends to take us home."

...

Yousef and Samira huddled on the back seat together as the truck bounced over the dusty terrain. "How on earth did you get into the prison?" Yousef asked, his hands still shaking.

"I walked alone to the check-point and told the soldiers who I am. They all knew about the estranged wife of Ebi Rezaei, the Al-Qaeda Commander!" Samira smirked. "They took me prisoner thinking they'd won the lottery! My husband is offering a big reward for my capture."

"Why?" Yousef was confused.

"Ebi personally wants to stone me to death for leaving him," Samira chuckled as if it was a hilarious joke to her, then her voice wavered. "As if I haven't already received enough beatings at his hands."

"Bastard," Yousef swallowed, attempting to suppress his rising fury at the thought.

"I was in the cell next door to you for hours," Samira explained, absently caressing the back of Yousef's hand with her manicured fingernails. "My door had bars and I saw Javadi's guard step back out into the corridor... I quickly enticed him to open my cell door and I snatched his gun, so I could rescue you."

"Enticed him?" Yousef raised an eyebrow.

"He didn't hesitate!" Samira pouted wickedly, as if acutely aware of her allure. "Seems I got into your cell just in time."

"That's an understatement," Yousef shuddered as he recalled Javadi's finger on the trigger of the gun pointing at his face.

"So," Samira smiled warmly. "It's all good. Brody and Javadi are on their way to Tehran to assassinate Danesh Akbari... and you're taking me to the United States to get my citizenship."

"You risked your own life to save mine," Yousef boldly squeezed her hand. "Why?"

"I needed to find you of course!" Samira giggled. "Because you're going to offer me a job in the United States."

"I am?" Yousef assessed her curiously.

"At your Medical Centre in Dam Neck, Virginia," she grinned.

Yousef was puzzled, "Why would you want to work there?"

"Because I've met a guy," Samira sighed peacefully as she rested her head on Yousef's muscular shoulder. "A kind, wonderful, sweet Doctor who already works there."


	5. Kicking it Deserves

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This great prompt was from Bookworm1986 on fanfiction.net...
> 
> A funny one shot where poor Yousef finds himself in the middle of/refereeing a Brody/Quinn slanging match
> 
> I tried to make parts of it funny, but it kept drifting into different emotional territory...
> 
> Set during S3 E9 (One Last Time) - This is sort of a sequel to my earlier one-shot in this collection called "Only a Fool".
> 
> ...

 

Nicholas Brody entered the communal TV room avoiding eye contact with it's single occupant who was loitering at the Dam Neck training facility.

Peter Quinn flinched and assertively guarded his personal space. "Where's Carrie?" He was actually waiting for his friend Yousef Turani to return from the shower room.

"She telephoned Saul about something," Brody shrugged, his gaze bouncing nervously to the exit. "Then she left."

"Maybe she's convincing Saul to ship you off to Guantanamo," Quinn stood abruptly, his chair scuffing the floor loudly. "Instead of his hare-brained scheme to send you out into the field."

"Some things never change do they?" Brody's fists clenched. "I go travelling for a few months and when I get back... Peter Quinn is still a dick."

"Travelling! Is that what you call it? Quinn cocked his head, sarcastically. "I'd call it being a fugitive. You're still the world's most wanted terrorist!"

"I didn't do anything!" Brody yelled, throwing his hands up in a gesture of surrender.

"No?!" Quinn roared, his neck muscles taut. "Try telling your suicidal daughter that."

"What's going on?" Yousef Turani ran into the room, a tight white T-shirt outlining his muscular torso. "I could hear you guys down the corridor!"

"Yousef, this is Peter Quinn." A vein throbbed in Brody's forehead. "He's a hand-stabbing bastard."

Yousef rubbed his dark beard, confused. He'd heard his best friend described as a lot of things before, but never that.

"He's a CIA Analyst," Brody turned and lowered his trousers, exposing hips and pale butt cheeks. "Analyse... _this_."

"Put your scrawny ass away!" Quinn sneered, gripping the back of the nearest chair. "Before I give it the kicking it deserves."

"You guys need to calm down," Yousef folded his arms and stepped to form an immovable barrier between them. "Brody, please pull your pants up."

"Saul's giving me a chance to be a marine again," Brody hitched up his trousers and peeked around Yousef's muscles to eyeball Quinn. "He trusts me."

"Is that what you think?" Quinn laughed coldly. "One way or another, Saul's going to make you pay for what you did."

"What I did..." Brody's face stretched into a snarl. "Was lose eight years of my life in a hole for this country."

"No, what you did..." Quinn's jaw clenched. "Was kill Elizabeth Gaines, attempt to assassinate the Vice President and had Carrie undergo ECT because you convinced her she was crazy."

"That's enough, Quinn!" Yousef jabbed his finger angrily. "Be nice!"

"Hell, at least I didn't shoot Carrie," Brody's tone was scathing. "She told me why she's wearing that sling!"

"I grazed her arm," Quinn mocked, inhaling a long breath. "Sue me."

"You bastard!" Brody dived for Quinn, but was restrained mid-flight by Yousef.

"You need to leave now, Brody," Yousef spoke calmly. "This level of stress is not good for your recovery."

"Whatcha gonna do?" Brody's eyes bulged. "Give me more Ibogaine?"

"Ibogaine?" Quinn bent down so he was nose to nose with Brody. "Sounds like somebody got addicted to the high life on their travels? So what's Doctor Turani trying to get you off? Heroin? Cocaine?"

"Drop it," Yousef clipped Quinn around the ear. "That's confidential and none of your business."

"So you've been living it up in South America?!" Quinn imitated sniffing a line along the back of his hand. "Partying in a flashy apartment in Caracas with your own personal concierge?"

Brody swallowed, then paled and shuddered as he slumped within Yousef's hold. "Paco!" He started hyper-ventilating. "I've got to save Paco! He's just a kid!"

Yousef rested Brody down onto the couch gently and turned to Quinn. "I told you to shut up. Leave Brody alone."

"Leave Brody alone," Quinn whined it back to him in a sing-song voice.

"Quinn! Stop being such a dick!" Yousef had never seen his friend behave like this. "What is your problem?"

"My problem is Nicholas Brody," Quinn hissed. "My problem is the number of people that mysteriously die when he's around. Vice President Bill Walden for starters."

"Issa!" Brody moaned painfully which caused Yousef to crouch down and take his pulse. "Paco!"

"Walden's pacemaker malfunctioned?" Quinn continued mercilessly. "My ass!"

Brody suddenly sprang from the couch and knocked Quinn to the floor. They punched and rolled until Yousef wedged his huge boot between them, then he bent and banged their heads together.

"What did you do that for?" Quinn and Brody yelped in unison at the glowering Yousef.

"I told you guys to calm down!" Yousef pointed at them in turn. "You're behaving like little kids."

"Brody started it," Quinn grumbled, rubbing his sore forehead. "Called me a dick earlier."

"Oh believe me..." Brody pressed the tender beginnings of a bruise. "It started way back... when you stabbed me in the hand!"

"You wanna know why I did that?" Quinn smiled insincerely. "It was pure theatre. Me and Carrie were having fun playing good cop, bad cop with you."

Yousef gritted his teeth, "Stop it Quinn."

"Fun?!" Brody flashed the back of his hand. "Look at this red scar... It's from your knife!"

"Hey," Quinn pointed to the assortment of needle marks on Brody's forearm. "Look at those pretty little scars."

"You know nothing!" Tears welled in Brody's eyes. "About the Tower of David... Or that evil slum Doctor..."

"Brody, go back to your room." Yousef ordered firmly. "Now! I'll be there in a few minutes."

Brody sniffed as he glared at Quinn, "Don't think for a minute that this is over!"

"You're right," Quinn's eyes narrowed as he watched Brody leave. "This is just the beginning."

...

"What the hell was all that about, Quinn?" Yousef Turani offered his friend his hip flask after he'd returned from comforting and stabilising Brody. "Not like you to kick a man when he's down?"

"The usual stuff," Quinn sighed after taking a sharp swig. "What do guys always fight about?"

"Survival? Power?" Yousef's brow furrowed. "Women?"

Quinn shrugged nonchalantly.

"A woman?" The dawning realisation hit Yousef. "Carrie?"

Quinn nodded and wondered if the heartache he felt would ever ease.


	6. Stupid Yellow Fruit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fab prompt was from Brainraccoons on Tumblr...
> 
> I've got a prompt in mind that's ridiculous, but amuses me greatly. Set before Carrie starts showing she's pregnant, she's working surveillance (or something else equally boring) when she starts getting cravings. At first it's just mildly strange but it starts raising eyebrows when she starts asking for increasingly weirder stuff like a specific temperature in the room, or pickled eggs or something. (Incidentally, I'm feeling majorly sad, so please make this one funny and lighthearted. Thanks!)
> 
> Spoilers for S3 E6 (Still Positive)
> 
> ...

 

Virgil re-read the list that Carrie had manically scribbled when he'd asked if she wanted anything from the grocery store. He'd been planning on fetching a couple of cokes, maybe some chocolate bars. The idea was to keep their caffeine and attention levels stable, in the absence of any coffee in the surveillance van.

 _-_ _Six pink grapefruits_  
\- One lime  
\- Bar of Dove soap (white)  
\- Four chocolate Easter eggs

"Easter eggs?" Virgil muttered under his breath. "In December?" He eyed the seasonal display and wondered if the hollow chocolate snowmen in foil wrappers would suffice.

"I don't think you've got time for Christmas shopping," Peter Quinn nudged Virgil from behind. "Get back to your van."

"What are you doing here?" asked Virgil. "I thought you were in the follow car across the street?"

"Carrie texted me," Quinn snapped. "Said she needed some Blu-Tack and Scotch magic tape urgently."

"Sticky tape?" Virgil looked out through the grocery store window. "Oh no, what has Max broken this time?"

"I thought it best to come and get some quickly," Quinn puffed. "Can you take it back to her?"

Virgil nodded, "Throw it in the basket with her other stuff."

Quinn curiously eyed the contents of Virgil's shopping basket. "Six grapefruits?"

"Yeah, I hope these yellow ones will be okay," Virgil sighed. "She wanted pink."

"Is Carrie okay?" Quinn sounded concerned. "I mean mentally stable?"

"I think so. She seems healthy. Certainly eating well," Virgil nodded. "She'd eaten everything out of my lunch box by eight o' clock this morning."

"Maybe she's on a new fad diet or something," Quinn smirked. "Probably an improvement on the biohazard yoghurts in her fridge."

Virgil chuckled in agreement, "Right I'm going to pay."

"Don't leave the van again," Quinn scolded.

"Carrie's in charge today." Virgil sniffed impertinently. "I'll follow  _her_  orders."

...

"You feeling okay?" Virgil's eyes narrowed as Carrie pounced on the chocolate snowmen and greedily devoured all four of them in under a minute.

"Mmmmm..." She wiped her mouth and eagerly rummaged in the grocery bag again. "Just hungry."

"What. Is. This?" Carrie glared at Virgil accusingly. "Yellow? I wanted pink grapefruits!"

"None in the store," Virgil shrugged. "Only the yellow ones."

"But yellow is no good," Carrie prodded the offending citrus fruit, sniffed it tentatively, then grimaced in disgust. "The yellow ones don't smell right." She swiftly dropped it back into the bag and dug deeper. "Where's the lime?"

"Sorry, no limes either," Virgil shook his head. "But I found you a small lemon instead."

"You really don't get it, do you?" Carrie's eyes blazed. "If I wanted yellow fruit, I'd have asked for yellow fruit!" She threw the lemon and it bounced off Max's shoulder.

"Calm down," warned Virgil. "Do you need to take a tablet?"

"What I need..." Carrie hissed. "Is the right colour fruit. I need you to bring me exactly what I ask for!"

"I got you the soap," Virgil smiled hopefully.

"Thank God!" Carrie's hand delved again, increasingly frustrated with the bulky grapefruits, she tossed them over onto the empty driver's seat. "Stupid yellow fruit."

"Dove," Virgil winked proudly as Carrie finally got her hands on the bar of soap. "Just what you asked for."

Carrie caressed the white bar lovingly after she had unwrapped it, "Perfect." She inhaled deeply, then set it aside when she spotted the Scotch magic tape.

Max assessed Carrie out of the corner of his eye as she carefully licked the outer layer of the roll of tape. He looked quizzically at Virgil who responded with an indiscernible shrug as she sought her next goody.

"Get ready guys," Quinn's voice crackled over the radio. "Paul Franklin is on the move."

Virgil leapt to the steering wheel, landing on the pile of yellow grapefruits in the process. "For God's sake Carrie!"

"Wow, this Blu-Tack is really good!" Carrie's jaw pressed down hard as she chewed.

"You might have Pica disorder," Max leant towards Carrie knowingly. "Do you often have cravings to eat non-nutritive substances?"

"I'm not eating it," Carrie waved dismissively, "Just chewing it. Do you guys want some? It's like gum!"

"Save it for Saul," Virgil grinned over his shoulder at them. "He's the gum connoisseur."

"Black jack gum," muttered Max. "Keep finding those damn wrappers everywhere."

...

**Later that day**

"Quinn, that is  _my_  gum," Carrie snatched the blue pack away from him.

"Hey, I'm sticking these papers on the wall." Quinn grabbed the cardboard packet back. "It's Fara's timeline of Javadi's financial transactions."

"But  _THAT_  is  _MY_  special gum!" Carrie shrieked as she unsuccessfully tried to extract the Blu-Tack from Quinn's grip.

"Did somebody say gum?" Saul grinned as he sauntered into the conference room. "Gimme some!"

"Help yourself," Quinn tossed the stretchy blue compound over to Saul who examined it, disappointed.

Carrie trembled in fury, then ran to the wall, angrily ripping down the papers and greedily pulling the blue reusable adhesive balls off at the corners.

"Carrie!" Fara cried softly in horror. "Those are Javadi's financial reports! I only printed one copy."

"Use a cork board in future," Carrie growled. "And push pins."

Fara nodded apologetically, "Sure."

"All the blue gum in Langley belongs to  _me_  from now on," Carrie jabbed her finger at her confused audience as she backed out of the door. "Every last bit of it!"

...

"Pica," Max explained to the others as they scrabbled on the floor to collate Fara's papers. "Cravings for non-food items. It can sometimes happen when women are..."

"Pregnant," Fara whispered.

Quinn's eyes widened. He stared at Saul for any reaction to Max and Fara's surprising insight.

"Carrie's bipolar, not pregnant," Saul reassured them, shaking his head sympathetically. "She can chew what she likes... as long she stays away from my stash of lucky gum."


	7. You'll be safe with Doctor Turani

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's note:
> 
> Sorry not updated for ages! I've been keen to post another one-shot about Yousef Turani and the Navy SEALS. I've been faffing about with this one for a while... so here goes nothing. It's veering towards the dark side I suppose... although not as dark as some of the drafts. It can be read alone or as a sequel to "Kicking it Deserves". Please review!
> 
> Spoilers for S3.

_..._

**You'll be safe with Doctor Turani**

...

Yousef Turani exhaled, sorrowful as the call on his cell phone ended. As a family man being away from his loved ones was painful. He'd only seen his newborn son, Devon, at his birth, then returned to the Dam Neck military facility swiftly afterwards. Turani's extensive medical skills urgently required to help get a fugitive junkie into shape for a top secret mission in Iran.

...

As the weeks passed Turani had come to like Nicholas Brody more and more, taking personal pride in his physical, mental and emotional transformation.

It was a few days after Easter when Saul Berenson had allowed them a single day off from their intensive training schedule and the Navy SEALS had decided to hold a party.

...

"What's Carrie doing here?" Brody gulped down his mineral water.

"I'm not sure," Turani frowned. "Thought it was just us black ops guys tonight. Hopefully a Poker tournament later. After the chocolate egg hunt."

"Carrie's one of the guys." The familiar voice behind Brody and Turani caused them to spin round. "She'll win every hand."

"Peter Quinn!" Turani slapped his friend on the back, but withdrew his palm when he noticed Brody glowering before stomping away. "What are you doing here?"

"Babysitting the Easter Bunny," Quinn shrugged. "Here to make sure you rowdy lot don't get too drunk and start fighting."

Turani laughed. "Is that a joke?"

"Actually," Quinn leaned closer, "I'm chaperoning Carrie. She insisted on coming tonight. Reckon she's hoping to share a few beers with Brody."

"How do you feel about that?" Turani asked knowingly.

"I feel like she'd be better off staying the hell away from him," grumbled Quinn. "And alcohol."

"Brody's alright," Turani glanced over at the hard-working marine. "Seriously damaged, but not a bad person."

"Perhaps you're right," Quinn sighed. "Maybe I should give him a chance to redeem himself tonight."

"Well, I don't want you guys bickering again. Brody's still fragile," warned Turani. "Don't give him a hard time, even if you are jealous."

"Jealous?" Quinn shook his head. "No. Not any more."

"Oh come on man," whispered Turani, "I know you're into Carrie."

"Yeah well, it's pointless." Quinn's lips tightened. "I mean look at them..."

Turani stared across the room. Carrie and Brody were tentatively evaluating each other, eyes sparkling, effervescent together. It was obvious they'd be sneaking away later.

"If you love her, let her go." Turani poured Quinn a whisky. "Let them be."

"I'm trying," Quinn's gaze lingered on the loose black fabric gently silhouetting Carrie's slightly curved abdomen. "I'll be here for her... after Brody... after his final mission."

"Don't get your hopes up," Turani nudged him. "He'll be coming back from Iran. We all will."

...

"How's your baby boy?" Quinn changed the subject. "I sent him a fluffy rabbit for Easter."

"Devon's growing fast." Turani's shoulders slumped. "From what I can see on Skype anyhow. How's yours?"

"He's none of my business." Quinn lowered his eyes. "It's complicated. Julia got married. John has a real father now."

"Sorry," Turani was sincere.

"Carrie's pregnant with Brody's baby," Quinn blurted it out.

"What the fuck?" Turani's eyes widened. "Brody never told me! Does he know?"

Quinn shrugged. "Does it matter?"

"I'd want to know," Turani's stance shifted, a responsible furrowing of his brow. "A new life to take care of? Fatherhood is a gift!"

"Is it?" Quinn necked another whisky. "It's a gift I never accepted."

"Remember that was your choice, Quinn," Turani's eyes lacked sympathy now. "I warned you how badly you'd regret it."

"I fucked up," Quinn inhaled bitterly. "I fuck everything up these days. You hear I accidentally shot a kid in Caracas?"

"Quinn..." Turani evaluated his friend before speaking softly. "Bad things happen in our line of work."

"That's an understatement," hissed Quinn.

"You need to move on," ordered Turani. "Think about the future."

Quinn's blue eyes were sad and distant. "Perhaps I need to leave and never come back."

...

The conversation and drinks ebbed and flowed for hours. Carrie disappeared from the room, then Brody shortly afterwards.

Quinn and Turani were alerted to a commotion in the nearest bathroom.

Hafez Azizi was restraining Brody near a cubicle. He was drunkenly thrashing his arms and legs trying to escape his burly captain's grip.

Carrie was kneeling on the floor sobbing.

Blood was trickling down the cheek of one of the Navy SEALS. It was Eric Baraz and he was swaying unsteadily and muttering, cursing Brody.

"What the fuck happened?" Quinn crouched next to Carrie.

"I thought he was going to..." Carrie's blue eyes widened with fear. "Baraz came in here. Brody tried to..."

"I just wanna talk..." Baraz slurred.

"Shut up Baraz!" yelled Azizi.

"I only wanna chat," Baraz chuckled to himself, his brown eyes glazed. "Say _hi_ to the pretty lady."

"Get Baraz out of here!" Turani was furious. "And Brody."

"I'm not going anywhere without Carrie." Brody's eyes bulged as Quinn wrapped his arms around Carrie's shoulders to comfort her.

"Quinn, take Brody to his room," Turani ordered. "A-Z take Baraz to sober up and get a formal statement about this incident."

"Is saying _hi_ to someone a crime?" Baraz's eyes widened as Azizi released Brody. "What are you accusing me of? You know I'm just a friendly kinda guy!"

"Carrie?" Quinn's eyes were full of concern for his colleague. He reluctantly moved away from her and forcefully grappled Brody into a headlock.

"I'll check Carrie over," Turani knelt down beside her.

Carrie's eyes darted across to Quinn, afraid.

"You'll be safe with Doctor Turani," Quinn reassured her as he dragged Brody towards the door. "You can trust him."

...

Turani lifted Carrie and carried her along the corridor into a small clinical observation room. "I know about your pregnancy, Agent Mathison. Are you hurt? Injured?"

"Eric Baraz didn't do anything," Carrie shook her head. "I got a fright when he appeared in the bathroom. I was startled, I screamed. Brody came running in and punched him. I thought he was going to kill Baraz."

Turani checked Carrie's pulse and took her blood pressure. "You should lie down. Get your heart rate back to normal."

"Can I go back and see Brody?" Carrie fidgeted, agitated.

"No," Turani was resolute. "He's been drinking and fighting. He shouldn't have been drinking alcohol with the meds he's taking..."

"I'm sorry that's my fault..." Carrie bit her lip.

"It's ok," Turani patted her arm. "You weren't to know."

"Can we stay here then?" Carrie sighed, moving her feet up onto the leather couch. "It's quiet here. I'll calm down."

Turani nodded. "You stay here, I better go and check on..."

"Stay with me." Carrie patted the seat next to her, her pupils dilating.

Turani eyed her cautiously. "I'll sit at my desk. Do some work while you rest on there."

"Suit yourself," Carrie's expression was unreadable.

Turani felt unsettled as he perched on his chair and switched the computer on. He glanced across at Carrie who had curled up, foetal position. He thought how fragile she looked, like a shivering broken bird.

He stood and got a green blanket from the cupboard and draped it over her. She smiled gratefully, then the tears started.

Turani silently chastised himself for immediately realising what both Brody and Quinn saw in this beautiful woman. She was so delicate and fragile on the outside, but clearly steely and smart too. There was a feminine intensity to her energy. An aura of sensuality to each movement she made, even whilst sobbing her heart out.

"Don't cry," Turani grabbed a box of tissues

Carrie took one and sat up slightly to blow her nose.

"What's wrong?" Turani fought against the temptation to move even closer to comfort her. "Bet you've fended off worse idiots than Baraz before?"

"I'm so alone. I'm scared Brody won't come back from Iran. Everything is in place. Every detail is planned." Carrie sniffed and swallowed. "I'm flying to Tehran myself, but I'm so afraid of losing him."

Turani answered confidently. "I won't let that happen Carrie."

"I know," she blew her nose again. "I believe in you guys."

Against his better judgement, Turani tentatively reached to remove a bedraggled blonde strand sticking to her face and tucked it behind her ears.

"Thanks," Carrie smiled, touching his tanned arm lightly. They both stared at her pale hand lingering on his forearm. He swallowed and decided it might be safer to stand up.

Carrie's warm hand left his arm, but remained outstretched so her electric touch brushed his side, then down over his hip and trouser leg as he towered above her.

Turani quickly backed away, retreating to the safety of his desk. _What was she doing? Where were her boundaries?_ She was crying over Brody, but in a split second reaching out like that. _Was he imagining it? Had he invited it?_

Carrie swung her legs down from the couch, then stalked towards a nervous Turani. She placed her hands firmly on his muscular shoulders. "Doctor Turani you are incredibly tense," she purred into his ear.

"Carrie, I'm married. I have a kid, a wife..." Turani spun round. "You're with Brody. Quinn would kill me..."

"Quinn?" Carrie frowned.

Turani looked for the nearest exit. "Look, let's go find Brody."

"Why would Quinn kill you?"

Turani murmured, "Figure it out."

Carrie looked confused and headed back to the couch. Sitting heavily she pondered aloud. "Quinn...?"

"Look, I shouldn't have said anything..." Turani backtracked.

"No I'm glad you did." Carrie put her head in her hands and began slowly rocking.

Turani watched her for a few seconds then bravely approached the couch again.

"Sit next to me," ordered Carrie, moving her hands from her face, her eyes flashing angrily. "Tell me everything."

"You'll have to ask Quinn," Turani tentatively lowered himself next to her. "It's not my place to say anything."

"You are teasing me Doctor Turani!" Carrie looked cross, but a mischievous glint reappeared in her eye.

"Listen..." Turani felt disoriented under her steamy gaze. "I shouldn't have said anything..."

"Peter Quinn can go fuck himself," Carrie snarled. "As if I would ever..." She shuddered. "He's trouble."

"No, he's a great guy," Turani glared at her. "You need to know that."

Carrie assessed Turani suspiciously, then she reached across and cheekily stroked his dark beard. "You're gorgeous."

"Carrie!" Turani pulled away from her. "What are you doing?"

"I like a challenge," Carrie giggled and reached to rub his thigh. You're playing hard to get and making me so..."

"Please!" Turani pushed her hand away. "Stop this."

"I like crossing lines," Carrie laughed manically. "Why do you think I hooked up with a goddamn terrorist?"

"You need help," Turani fleetingly considered the selection of sedatives in the cupboard. "Sure you haven't been drinking... or do you have a mood disorder I should know about?"

"Kiss me," begged Carrie. "Not Brody. Not Quinn. I want you!"

Turani eyed the door and mentally counted how many strides he'd take to reach it. "You'll be safe with Doctor Turani." Quinn's words still rang loud and clear. "You can trust him."


	8. Party time is over

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the reviews & messages. 
> 
> Also thanks to everyone participating in our self-created literary festival, (or whatever it is!). I'm loving reading all the stories in response to kripnatic's prompt 'Drunken Quinn blurting his feelings out'. They're all so different & all so brilliant. I love you all for entertaining me & keeping me going until S4! I know there are more stories being written too! :-) If you haven't written one yet, then please do!
> 
> So here is my latest update for this collection... This follows on from 'You'll be safe with Doctor Turani.' I swear this chapter wrote itself... Don't blame me. I never knew this would happen...

 

**Party time is over**

...

"You look like shit, Doctor Turani!" Quinn scooped up the stack of clothes that he'd folded prior to his shower in the communal bathroom at Dam Neck. "Where did you sleep last night?"

Yousef Turani looked up from his nauseous vigil at the basin and stared into the mirror. Behind he saw Quinn's reflection with a white towel wrapped around his waist. "Erm... on a couch somewhere..." He cleared his throat guiltily. "Some party last night, huh?"

"Well, it was until that drunken ginger motherfucker ruined it by punching Eric Baraz," growled Quinn. "Thankfully he passed out once I threw him into his bunk."

"How's Baraz?" Turani nervously fiddled with the faucet.

"Baraz is fine. Bruised, but back to talking non-stop as usual." Quinn rolled his eyes. "A-Z is certain that Brody is the one in the wrong. Baraz is a harmless chatterbox. Did Carrie get home ok?"

"Carrie?" Turani clutched the basin and suppressed a small dry retch. "Get home? What do you mean?"

"A-Z told me he saw Carrie getting into a cab late last night?" Quinn looked concerned. "Was she ok after Brody and Baraz's fight?"

"Um. No. No... It wasn't her getting in a cab," Turani mumbled, rubbing his beard. "She slept here."

"What? Where is she now?" asked Quinn. "Is she OK?"

"Um... I found her a quiet spot." Turani forced a dismissive gesture. "She's probably still sleeping."

Quinn assessed Turani curiously. He'd never seen him so twitchy, so pale. "You OK, Doctor T? What's going on?"

"I need a shower." Turani headed towards an empty cubicle, leaving Quinn frowning, unsettled. Worried.

..

Quinn left the bathroom and stopped dead when he saw a bedraggled, buttons askew Carrie emerge from the clinical observation room further down the corridor. He'd knocked on that door late last night. It had been locked and in complete darkness. Quinn had been confused as had assumed Turani would have taken Carrie in there to check her over after her distress caused by Brody's fight. He'd asked Hafez Azizi at the time, but was informed that Carrie had likely already left in a cab.

"Carrie!" Quinn, sprinted down the corridor still wearing just his towel. "Are you ok after what happened last night?"

Carrie gave his toned pectorals a fleeting once over, then swallowed and looked sheepish. "Last night...?"

"After you were upset about Brody's fight? Turani told me you slept here," explained Quinn. "I thought you'd gone home and abandoned me all alone with a bunch of drunk Navy SEALS."

Carrie looked dazed. "I um slept on the couch." She gesticulated towards the clinical observation room. "In there. I was fine. I am fine."

"Did Turani look after you, OK?" enquired Quinn.

"Oh, erm, yeah... He um...Yeah, trustworthy guy like you said." Carrie's eyes darted down the corridor, "Where is Turani?"

"Shower." Quinn pointed to the communal bathroom.

Carrie's lips momentarily curved before she regained her composure.

"Do you want to freshen up? We need to get into Langley. Saul called me." Quinn spoke seriously. "Said party time is over."

"Mmm... yeah, I'll pop into the bathroom now," Carrie couldn't suppress her grin.

"But Turani is still..." began Quinn.

"I'll cover my eyes," winked Carrie.

...

"Any room for a little one? Carrie pulled the shower curtain back and stepped into the cubicle.

"Carrie! Are you out of your fucking mind?!" Turani's eyes widened when he saw she was completely naked.

"You didn't complain last night." She grabbed both of his strong tanned hands and placed them on her pale breasts.

Turani slid his hands down her body, over the curve of her abdomen around onto the small of her back. He pulled her close, then began caressing her hips and down her outer thighs. "I did complain at first..."

"You could have walked out through that door, but you didn't. You locked it. You turned the lights out. You kissed me." Carrie whispered excitedly. "Is it easier to be yourself in the dark?"

"I should have known better, but you..." Turani sighed and wagged his finger, water droplets flicking as he pretended to be cross.

"Excuses, excuses. You're a very bad man Doctor Turani." Carrie nibbled his dripping ear lobe. "You're not exactly throwing me out of this shower cubicle now are you?"

"You bring out my dark side." Turani lifed Carrie easily and suppressed a joyous groan as she wrapped her slim legs around his muscular body. "I'm betraying every person I love by doing this."

"Ah... Oh!" Carrie moaned as he moved gently at first, then gradually harder.

"It's worth it though." Turani kissed her deeply as he embraced her. "I've never met a woman like you."

"I've met plenty of men like you," she scoffed, panting and teasingly kissing his beard. "I always get what I want in the end."

Turani momentarily stopped moving, annoyance flashing across his normally placid face. "Is this a game to you?" His body decided it didn't care and he needed to continue.

"Oh! It was, but I could get used to this. Oh!" Carrie's breathing became ragged. "You're fucking incredible... You're so b... Ah!"

From the room next door, Quinn heard muffled sounds he vaguely recalled hearing once before. _Was it over an ear-piece? No? Surveillance room? What the fuck?_ Quinn listened to Carrie's increasingly ecstatic moans in disbelief. _Was Brody in there with her? Surely it wasn't...?_ He tried to focus on putting his brown boots on, but his hands began shaking too much. He left the laces dangling as he stumbled out of the room.

Quinn tripped towards the nearest exit and angrily fidgeted in his pocket for the car keys. He knew he had to get away from Dam Neck before another fight broke out. He tried not to think about the loaded glock hidden in the glove compartment of his car. How easily he could retrieve it and retrace his steps back to the steaminess of the communal bathroom.

He grimaced realising he expected nothing less from Carrie, her behaviour was permanently erratic, but Turani? _His best friend! A loving husband and father! A professional Doctor! Risking it all for a moment of madness with Carrie?_

_Carrie who was pregnant with Brody's baby!_

Quinn slumped into the driver's seat. Winded, betrayed, jealous. Everything he believed in now vaporised. Turani had represented everything that was good. Everything he wished he could be one day. Now Turani was just fallible, human and stupid. Like Estes. Like Brody. Another name on Carrie's list of seduced and fucked husbands.

_Perhaps I should get married? Then maybe I'd stand a chance!_

Shaking, Quinn started the engine and decided to drive straight over to Langley. Party time at Dam Neck was well and truly over.


	9. Resistance to Interrogation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the reviews guys! This was originally a collection of unrelated one-shots but obviously it's turned into a multi-chapter story for the time being!
> 
> So here's some more torment for Carrie, Quinn and Turani (sorry). This follows on from the previous chapter (Party time is over). Please review & let me know if you want more...

**Resistance to Interrogation**

...

_9.06am_

"Hi Fara," Quinn arrived at Langley and startled his colleague who was engrossed in her usual neverending spreadsheets. "What are you doing later?"

Fara did not respond verbally, but her eyes widened expressing her complete disbelief at the unexpected question.

"Good morning, Peter," she sighed eventually, deciding she had must have imagined the _later_ bit of his question. "Right now I'm reviewing this data from General Akbari's computer. Javadi emailed it through."

"I can see what you're doing _now_ ," Quinn arched an eyebrow, impatiently. " _Later_ is what's important. Fancy a drink? A meal? A movie?"

"I-I-I don't know," Fara answered honestly. Dating wasn't a skill that she had practised much yet.

"I'll pick you up at eight," Quinn forced his most charming smile, whilst his blue eyes remained distant and ice cold.

Fara pulled her grey hijab forward a little. _What was his game?_ She had felt invisible to Quinn since she'd started at Langley. He only had eyes for Carrie. In fact Fara felt invisible to nearly all her colleagues. Only briefly catching the attention of two men who were poles apart on the decency scale. Harmless Max had been sweet when they worked together on surveillance. She'd caught his sidelong curious glances at her several times. It had been a novelty to feel relaxed at work and sat next to a pleasant man. Then there was Javadi, who had disturbed her, enraged her. A murderer who repulsed her so violently that she'd gripped a pair of scissors and contemplated dispensing justice herself.

"Where's Carrie this morning?" probed Fara. "How was the Easter party?"

Quinn bit his lip. _Fucking Fara_. She was too smart for her own good, clearly she had deduced that Carrie was on his mind.

"Carrie's still over at Dam Neck." Quinn looked down at his shoelaces, still dangling from the hasty departure earlier. "She's probably tying up a few loose ends." _Or fucking my best friend. Unless Brody caught them in the bathroom..._

"Saul said you were supposed to be chaperoning Carrie," Fara frowned. "I hope she's safe."

"Look do you want to go out tonight or not, Fara?" Quinn realised he may have targeted the wrong girl to lure into a whirlwind romance, purely to capture Carrie's attention.

"No I can't," Fara answered bluntly. "I"m going to ask Max to work late with me on..."

"Fine," Quinn gestured dismissively. His ego not wanting to contemplate why working late with Max would be preferable to a hot date with himself.

"Sorry," Fara saw the flash of rejection in his eyes and momentarily felt guilty. "Perhaps Carrie will go out with you tonight?"

"I can see you're busy, Fara," snipped Quinn, his _make-Carrie-jealous-plan_ clearly thwarted. "I'll leave you to work in peace."

...

_9.28am_

"I don't know where the fuck Carrie is, but you need to find her and bring her into Langley!" Saul was furious to find Quinn twirling a pocket knife alone at his desk. "And bring in the Navy SEALS who are going to Iran with Brody. We're starting a review program today. Checking their resistance to interrogation skills."

"But Sir," muttered Quinn. "Most of the guys are probably still in bed with hangovers after the party."

"Exactly," smirked Saul. "That was part of the plan. They won't be sharp physically or mentally, so we'll start with their polygraphs this morning. See who can beat the lie detector with a throbbing headache."

"Who should I bring in?" grumbled Quinn. He'd rather stick pins in his eyes than return to Dam Neck.

Saul checked his list, "Get Hafez Azizi, Eric Baraz, Josh Modarres, Yousef Turani and fucking Brody."

"Yes Sir," Quinn scowled. "I'll arrange the cars now."

"No, use the helicopter," Saul looked thoughtful. "It'll be quicker."

...

_11.39am_

Saul, Carrie and Quinn loitered around the monitors in the adjacent room and watched the group of Navy SEALs who were sat in a row, all wired up to the lie detector equipment.

After the control questions, the Polygrapher addressed Brody first. "Have you ever been unfaithful to your wife?"

"I added that question to the list, just for you." Saul whispered sideways at Carrie with a grin. "For old times sake."

Carrie gasped at the memory. Last time Brody was asked that during a polygraph he had lied and said _no_ , despite fucking her in a parking lot the night before. He had beaten the lie detector and sent Carrie into a frenzy, even more convinced that he had been turned and had slipped Afsal Hamid a razor blade in his cell.

"No," Brody breathed steadily, chillingly calm, exactly like last time. "I was never unfaithful to my wife... and especially not with Agent Mathison."

All the Navy SEALS guffawed at the last part of his sentence. Except for Yousef Turani who wiped his brow, then his dark beard, clearly agitated.

The polygraph trace had not flickered. There was no indication that Brody was lying.

"Hey, I've still got it," Brody chuckled to himself. "I can still beat that goddamn lie detector."

"Turani," the Polygrapher turned to the mild mannered Doctor. "Have you ever been unfaithful to your wife?"

Watching his friend on the the monitor, Quinn saw Turani shudder and pale. The polygraph trace peaked and troughed erratically.

"I doubt it," Brody nudged Turani and snorted with laughter. "He's still at the gooey-eyed stage and sleeps with a photo of his bride under his pillow."

"I can't do this test." Turani put his head in his hands. "Yes, I have been unfaithful to my wife."

"No way," laughed Brody. "You need to tell me more, man! I want all the juicy details."

Quinn chewed his lip knowingly and glanced at Carrie who had started gnawing viciously on her green pen.

"This has to fucking stop," Carrie hissed at Saul, green ink had leaked onto her lower lip. "Your stupid fucking questions. Akbari's guards are unlikely to ask this sort of shit!"

"Carrie, that's not the point. This is all part of checking their resistance to interrogation," Saul shrugged nonchalantly. "They could get asked anything in Iran. We need to ensure Brody and the Navy SEALS can lie competently. Tomorrow we'll be simulating the torture conditions that they may encounter."

"OK we're going to try something." The Polygrapher discussed something briefly with Turani, then signalled to Saul. "Repeat Brody's words after me Doctor Turani... I was never unfaithful to my wife. Especially not with Agent Mathison."

Brody, Baraz, Modarres and Azizi hooted with laughter as Turani blushed scarlet.

"What the fuck?" Carrie was outraged and threw her green pen at the monitor. "Saul that's unfair. This is humiliating for me! I'm CIA. Stop throwing my good name around like... like..."

Carrie hadn't realised the speaker was on and her words were being transmitted. Brody and the Navy SEALs all laughed even louder as Turani stood and dramatically pulled the polygraph probes and wires off. "I'm so fucking done with all this shit."

"Relax you dirty dawg," laughed Brody. "Just repeat after me... I was never unfaithful to my wife... They're only joking about Agent Mathison! We know you're not her type. She's only got eyes for me!"

"I can't do this," Turani flung the door open and strode out, deliberately avoiding Quinn, Saul and Carrie in the adjoining room.

Carrie dithered, contemplated following him, but decided against it. She nudged Quinn "Go after him."

...

_11.52am_

Quinn had to run to catch up with Turani who was rushing to get out of the building.

"Fuck off Quinn," Turani yelled and threw his laminated visitors pass at him. "I'm fucking done with all this CIA bullshit."

"You fucking bastard." Quinn grabbed Turani around the throat and dragged him through the nearest open door which happened to be Fara's office. "You knew how I felt about her, but you still went ahead and fucked her!"

Max and Fara watched in disbelief as Quinn began throwing punches at someone twice his size.

Turani shoved him away easily and Quinn clattered headlong against a filing cabinet. Blood began pouring from his nose.

"Stop!" Fara screamed and ran forward to shield Quinn from Turani's raised fist.

"No!" Max jumped over the desk to gallantly protect Fara. "Stop you'll kill him!"

Virgil heard Max yelling and ran into the office, throwing himself between Turani and the others.

"Just you wait til Brody finds out about Carrie!" Quinn shouted, spitting blood bitterly. "He'll ensure you're a dead man in Iran!"

Turani breathed erratically, surveying Quinn, Max, Fara and Virgil, then departed with tears in his eyes.


	10. Big Boy Pants

Big Boy Pants

...

"I am not fucking reassigning Yousef Turani," Saul yelled into the speaker phone, then gestured irately for Quinn to sit down near his desk. "Turani is flying out tonight with the rest of you guys. He knows Brody better than anyone. He'll keep Brody focused on the mission. It's too late to change the personnel now!"

"But Turani is still a mess." Quinn could hear the southern drawl of Hafez 'A-Z' Azizi on the line. "After he freaked out the other day during the polygraphs. Says he needs to take some leave."

"Have you asked him what this is all about?" Saul groaned.

Quinn flinched. He knew exactly what it was about. Turani was likely wracked with guilt for fucking Carrie. Wanted to get away before Brody found out.

A-Z paused for a moment. "Turani mentioned marital problems."

"Marital problems?" spat Saul. "Tell him my wife Mira fucked a Mossad agent called Alain Bernard in our bed!"

Quinn looked away as he saw the wretched pain in Saul's eyes.

Saul threw a photograph of Mira across the room. "I'm still managing to get the fucking job done!"

Quinn dived to retrieve the broken fragments of frame and glass.

"Yes Sir," A-Z coughed, sounding embarrassed over the speaker. "I will tell him that."

Saul gestured for Quinn to bin the broken frame, but slipped Mira's photograph inside his diary. "Tell Turani that Carrie is bipolar and she still manages to get the fucking job done!"

"Bipolar? Really?" A-Z sounded surprised. "OK..."

"Tell Turani that Peter Quinn is a deceitful, ill-disciplined, hand-stabbing bastard..." began Saul.

"Let me guess," A-Z drawled. "But he gets the job done?"

"Yes he does," nodded Saul. "So Turani needs to put on his big boy pants and get over whatever fucking marital problems he may or may not have. Put his personal life aside and get on that plane with you guys and Brody tonight."

"Yes Sir." Azizi sounded more confident. "I will go and give Turani his orders and your advice right now."

"Good," growled Saul. "I don't want to hear any more problems from your Navy SEALS. The game is on. I want Brody over that fucking border and into Iran as planned."

"Yes Sir," agreed Azizi. "There'll be no more problems."

...

"Hand-stabbing bastard I'll accept, but deceitful?" Quinn arched an eyebrow at Saul. "Ill-disciplined?"

"Virgil informed me that you and Turani were fighting in Fara's office," Saul's eyes narrowed. "I can only assume you've fucked his wife or something..."

"What?!" Quinn spluttered.

"Listen I don't care, but get your ass over to Dam Neck and put it right. Make sure Turani is in the right frame of mind for the mission."

Quinn glared at Saul, offended by his unsavoury assumptions. "Yes Sir, but I..."

"Take Carrie with you," Saul added. "Perhaps she can talk some sense into Turani."

"Carrie!" Quinn rolled his eyes and shook his head. "I don't think that..."

"That's an order," Saul whispered menacingly. "If Turani won't comply I'm holding you personally responsible for fucking everything up."

Quinn felt his bile rising. He doubted he could remain emotionally detached and undo the train wreck that had been unfolding since Turani and Carrie had shared a shower.

...

"I overheard..." Quinn paled with suppressed rage as he explained the entire situation during the awkward car journey with Carrie to Dam Neck.

"You're just jealous," Carrie overreacted. Offended, angry and unrepentant. "Turani let it slip how you feel about me!"

"Fuck!" Quinn swerved then gripped the steering wheel tightly. "I don't want to go down this road." He meant it in more ways than just the diverted traffic.

"Carrie..." Quinn squirmed. He jabbed the sat nav screen harder than necessary. "This isn't about you or me!" He glared at her as the traffic ahead came to a standstill. "This is about getting Turani's head back in the right place ready for the mission."

"Well, I might not be the best person to talk to him," Carrie huffed.

"I know that," Quinn agreed. "But this is also about ensuring Brody doesn't find out about you and Turani."

"You really think Brody will give a shit?" Carrie laughed dismissively. "We're not involved or anything. Brody's not my keeper."

"Carrie! Who are you kidding? Brody's the father of your unborn baby." Quinn lectured. "He's the man you almost quit your career for."

"It's all in the past," Carrie gestured contemptuously. "Me and Brody are just... He doesn't even know about the baby."

"He's the man who punched Eric Baraz for simply talking to you!" Quinn was emphatic. "Can you imagine what Brody will do if he finds out that you and Turani..." Quinn tailed off, his jealousy prickling again at the memory of her ecstatic moans.

"Not my problem," Carrie twitched.

"Carrie! What is wrong with you? Can't you see what you've done?" Quinn fumed. "You've compromised the mission with your selfish behaviour!"

"What?" Carrie was incredulous. "I had a bit of fun with somebody?"

"He's Brody's friend!" Quinn growled. "He's a married man!"

"Before you judge me, or give me that perpetual look of disapproval..." Carrie folded her arms. " Oh, I've seen your puppy dog eyes lately... all this What you put yourself through... it was fucking incredible... Like I said, you're just jealous because I fucked Turani instead of you."

Quinn shook his head. "That's not true, Carrie."

"Oh no? Well let me repeat what I overheard Max and Fara gossiping about...word for word," Carrie spat. "You knew how I felt about her, but you still went ahead and fucked her! Isn't that what you said to Turani?"

"Carrie you're twisting this. Let's remember the objective here. We need to get Turani's focus back on the Iran mission. He needs to move on from... this indiscretion." Quinn felt nauseous. "Turani's going out of his mind. It was out of character. He's a great soldier and doctor, a loyal husband... "

"Loyal husband?" Carrie pffted. "There's no such thing. No man has ever said no to me yet... Well apart from Saul..."

Quinn looked at her disdainfully. "There's no line you wouldn't cross is there?"

"And that's why you want me!" Carrie reached across and squeezed his thigh. "You know my darkest secrets and you still want me. You've overheard me fucking other guys and I bet it makes you want me even more..."

Quinn swallowed and couldn't deny it. He pushed her hand away. "How do you feel about Turani?" He felt childish immediately after asking the question.

Carrie smirked and looked out of the window. "Why?"

"Because I know Turani! He might be expecting more from you Carrie! A-Z mentioned marital problems. Maybe he's leaving his wife for you or something."

"Shit," Carrie bit her lip. "Not another Estes..."

"Why Turani?" Quinn glared at her. "Why him? Of all people!"

"I'd been off my meds for a few days..." Carrie raked at her hair. "I'd been drinking..."

"You're pregnant!" Quinn lamented. "Why were you drinking?"

"Because I'm falling apart Quinn... Turani was there." Carrie's eyes clouded despairingly. "He was kind to me and I just needed something... Someone...to make me feel good. He was there."

"Did it help?" Quinn chafed inwardly.

Carrie sighed, melancholy now. "You have no fucking idea."

...

Quinn felt sick as he drove through the checkpoint and into the car park at the Dam Neck Military Facilty.

"Can I stay in the car," Carrie fidgeted, agitated now. "I can't face seeing Turani. Or Brody."

"I'll go and talk to both of them separately," Quinn nodded wearily. "I don't know what I'll say. I don't know what to expect..."

"Tell Turani..." Carrie shrugged, searching for a facade. "I'm sorry I used him."

"I'll try and put things right." Quinn saw through her false insouciance and gritted his teeth.

"Quinn," Carrie softened. "I-I-I... oh this is fucking absurd. Can you drop the puppy dog eyes in future? You're a great colleague. A friend even... I just... I can't. Don't go there. I'm bad news."

"No shit," Quinn grimaced as he spotted a sweating Brody jogging across the car park towards them. "Do you want to come inside with me, or stay out here and talk to Brody?"

"I'll stay here," Carrie exhaled and rubbed the curve of her abdomen sorrowfully. "Talk to Brody about the mission. Say goodbye."


	11. International Call

International call

At first Carrie had butterflies when Brody joined her inside the car in the parking lot at Dam Neck. Mentally she cursed him for still having that effect on her. Nonetheless her thoughts kept wandering to Quinn and Turani. She hoped Quinn could talk Turani round and keep him focused on the Iran mission ahead.

She was relieved that Brody didn't seem to know anything about why Turani was begging to take some leave. "Marital problems, but he won't talk about it," shrugged Brody. "He's gone into his shell... He's changed since the party."

Carrie's heart chafed distractedly, irritated with Turani for reacting so emotionally after their illicit liaison. She vowed to stick to anonymous one night stands in future when her urges arose.

Carrie and Brody's conversation continued, stilted. Each too afraid of what they might say and subsequently regret. Soon it was time for Brody to rejoin his team. "I better get back indoors before A-Z and the other SEALS think I've done a runner."

Carrie blinked back errant tears as she patted his warm forearm. "See you on the other side."

Brody gazed at her wistfully. "Goodbye Carrie." He climbed out of the driver's door and strode across the parking lot towards the military facility.

Carrie sighed as she watched him. Goodbye Love. She patted her abdomen sombrely, then frowned when she noticed a cell phone lying on the seat beside her. Was that Quinn's? Brody's?

Carrie quickly decided it wasn't Quinn's. She knew that he had an iPhone exactly like hers. Standard issue in their department.

Was it Brody's? Carrie felt her hackles rise. What the fuck was Brody doing with a cell phone? Saul had specifically ordered that Brody was to have no contact with the outside world whilst undergoing his rehabilitation and training at Dam Neck.

Carrie picked it up and checked the call log. Just one number for her to mentally decode.

011... International call.

98... What the fuck? Iran!

Carrie's eyes widened as she read the next two digits for the area code.

21... Tehran. Fuck.

Carrie's heart started racing. She swiped to check the text messages next and saw a long thread. An exchange in Farsi. Carrie gasped as she read the content. Every single detail of the Navy SEALS mission to get Brody across the border into Iran. She cried out when she saw the initials assigned to recipient of the message.

"D.A!"

Carrie was shaking as she shoved the cell phone into her pocket and climbed out of the car. "This doesn't make any sense..."

As she ran clumsily across the parking lot, she tried to form a plan. Confront Brody? Find Quinn? Call Saul? Call Dar Adal?

She decided to find Quinn first. She trusted his judgement on matters like this. On everything. Quinn was logical. He'd make sense of it all.

...

"I can't go, Quinn." Turani's eyes scrunched closed as he rubbed his own temples hard. "I can't look Brody in the eye any more. I can't look myself in the eye after what I did..."

"Forget it," Quinn forced a dismissive gesture. "Put it behind you. We all make mistakes."

"But A-Z found out from Saul earlier that Carrie's bi-polar!" Turani's palms covered his eyes now. "I'm so fucking ashamed. I should have realised... If I'd known I'd never have taken advantage of... my professional position."

"Turani, listen to me. Carrie Mathison knew exactly what she wanted from you." Quinn bit his lip enviously. "You didn't stand a chance."

"I betrayed you too," Turani slouched miserably. "I betrayed everyone. Brody. My wife..."

"The only person you've betrayed is yourself," Quinn jabbed Turani in the chest. "Now get over it. Unless you want something more from Carrie...?"

"No!" Turani looked petrified. "She's too much for me... She's wild! I just want my wife. I love my precious wife and baby boy."

"And they love you too," Quinn squeezed Turani's muscular shoulder. "So for their sake, put this behind you and get on with the job. Carrie's not going to say anything. I'm not either."

"My whole life is going to be a lie from now on," Turani sighed sorrowfully. "Guess it serves me right."

"My whole life is already a lie," Quinn sniffed bitterly. "You get used to it."

"I'm so sorry man..." Turani bowed his head.

"You're a good man Yousef Turani," Quinn hugged his towering friend. "I'm sorry I punched you in Fara's Office."

"I didn't feel a thing," Turani ruffled Quinn's hair then froze as the door opened and Carrie darted in.

"Quinn I need to show you something!" Carrie appeared oblivious to Turani's presence as she wheezed hard from her jog, that had become an urgent sprint down the corridor. "It's Brody's... 011... 98... 21..."

Turani and Quinn both coughed awkwardly as they released their friendly embrace. Quinn edged towards the cell phone that Carrie was thrusting towards him. "What?"

"Look! Brody's been ringing Tehran!" Carrie fingers darted manically across the screen. "And these texts too. All the mission details in Farsi... to D.A!"

"Dar Adal?" Quinn frowned. "Dar Adal already knows the details. He's not in Tehran. He's down in the Florida Keys for a long weekend with Mrs Adal. He'll be back..."

"No!" Carrie eyes were bulging now. "Not Dar Adal you idiot! D.A! Danesh Akbari!"

"What?! Brody's texting General Akbari?" Quinn's lips slowly curled to a snarl. "But Akbari is the target! Brody's supposed to assassinate Akbari!"

Carrie rambled fast. Terrified of the implications. "Last year when Abu Nazir was in Beirut. Our snipers were ready on Hamra Street... but somebody warned him. Somebody fucking warned Nazir on his cell phone!"

"You think it was Brody?" Quinn's icy stare went sub-zero. "He's texting warnings to Akbari now?"

Carrie glanced at Turani, only just aware of his jittery presence. Her fiery demeanour contrasted Quinn's glacial fury. "This is confidential, Turani. One word to anyone and I will rip your fucking head off."

"Whoa! I understand." Turani raised his palms to deflect her venom. "But can I say..."

"Shut up! I'm trying to think." Carrie barked. "This is none of your business."

"Carrie!" Quinn hushed her. "Let Turani speak."

"Perhaps Brody is leading us SEALS into a trap." Turani whispered, agonised. "We might be on our way to be kidnapped! Or worse."

Carrie's gaze automatically flitted to Quinn for his reaction.

"Sounds plau-si-ble," Quinn's murderous icy wrath laced every syllable. "Question is, who else knows about this? Javadi? And what are we going to..." He fell silent as the door opened and Brody wandered in.

"Hi guys," Brody's eyes scanned nervously around the room. "Don't mind me. I'm just looking for something."

"Hi Brody," Turani greeted him warmly as Carrie discretely dropped the cell-phone into Quinn's jacket pocket. "Carrie and Quinn are just leaving. "Whatcha looking for buddy? Can I help?"

"Hey, glad you're feeling better man!" Brody punched Turani playfully on the chest. "You back on for flying out with us guys tonight?"

"Sure I am," Turani's wide smile hid his anguish at Brody's betrayal. "Friend."


	12. Watery Windshield

WATERY WINDSHIELD

...

"What happens now?" Carrie struggled to match Quinn's furious stride back across the parking lot at Dam Neck. He ignored the puddles underfoot as the grey drizzle turned to heavy rain. His brown desert boots sturdier than Carrie's canvas pumps.

"Get in." Quinn reached the car first and snatched open the passenger door for Carrie. A sense of urgency rather than chivalry directing his actions. "Call Saul."

"Saul's gonna be so pissed." She puffed as she climbed in. "His plan to send Brody to Iran to assassinate General Akbari has completely backfired."

"Why the fuck did Saul involve Brody anyway?" Quinn dashed around to the other side of the vehicle. He jumped in the driving seat and stared dispassionately at Carrie as if he held her personally responsible for all of Brody's misdemeanours. "Javadi was in the perfect position to eliminate Akbari himself, but no… Saul had to complicate it by dragging that deceitful piece of ginger shit into it."

"Shhh…" Carrie clasped her neat bump on either side. Covering the ears of Brody's unborn child.

"If Saul gives me the order Carrie…" Quinn's assertive glare was not seeking her permission on any level. "I will not hesitate to pull the trigger this time."

Carrie's eyes widened in realisation. "Oh God…" She raked at her damp blonde hair in panic.

"Ring Saul now," ordered Quinn, biting his lip impatiently. There was no time for her hormonal emotions to surface.

"I-I-I…" Carrie breathing became shallow. Tears welled, spilling onto her cheeks, already moist from the rain.

Quinn leant across and forced his hand under the damp lapel of her blue jacket. His wrist brushing against her smooth white silk blouse and the swell within. He sighed longingly, deftly retrieving her iPhone from the inside pocket. "Fucking call Saul, now!"

…

Carrie's fingers trembled and fumbled on the screen as she suppressed errant sobs. The iPhone slipped out of her perspiring palms and onto her lap. "Shit…"

"Down!" Quinn's hand suddenly lunged between Carrie's ankles and he grabbed the car seat adjuster beneath her. The seat slid back rapidly and her body shifted forwards, lumbering into a kneeling crouch in the footwell.

Quinn pressed her shoulder out of the way so he could access the glove compartment and pull his revolver out. "Stay here!" he warned.

"Who is it?" Carrie croaked, paling with shock and fear. Her tears halted by adrenaline.

Quinn's lips twitched into a snarl. "Who do you fucking think?" He shoved the revolver down the back of his pants and exited the vehicle into the rain.

…

Carrie could hear raised male voices then a scuffle, a thud on the car. She peeped up through the watery windshield and briefly made blurry eye contact with Brody before Quinn banged his ginger head down again on the slippery dark paintwork.

"Carrie…" Brody gasped, red blood trickling over his lips, intermixing with rain and diluting to pink on the car hood. "Carrie!"

"Fucking hell!" Carrie fidgeted, rocking to release her contorted body from the confinement of the footwell. She grasped the door handle and tumbled out onto the drenched asphalt of the parking lot. "Quinn! fucking stop!"

"Where's the cell phone, Carrie?" Brody choked desperately. "You've got to show Saul that cell phone!"

"What?" Quinn's dripping fist stopped mid flight. He kicked Brody to the wet ground and pointed his revolver. "Talk you fucking Asshole!"

Brody's chest heaved, his racking cough producing more blood. Carrie crawled over and cradled him. "Oh Brody…"

"Get away from him, Carrie!" Quinn snapped furiously. "He's lying. Playing mind games. Don't trust him."

"Carrie, listen to Quinn!" A familiar male voice boomed through the teeming rain from behind them. "Get away from Brody!"

…

Yousef Turani sprinted towards them. His white T-shirt sopping, anatomical details of every muscle of his broad torso etched in high definition. "Give me your weapon," he gestured to Quinn helpfully. "I'll keep pointing it at Brody while you search him."

Quinn nodded, then paused when he saw that Turani was already armed. An unmistakeable rigid outline in the pocket of his saturated khaki cargo pants.

"Drop your weapon, Quinn." Turani had noticed Quinn's hesitation and instantly withdrew his firearm pointing it directly at Carrie's head.

She screamed and wrapped her arms around her abdomen protectively.

Through the downpour Quinn observed an unrecognisable sinister fury in Turani's dark eyes. He lowered his revolver to the sodden ground, then raised both hands as he kicked it through the spray towards Turani.

Turani bent and grabbed Quinn's weapon shoving it in his pocket. He took a menacing step towards Carrie and Brody, his finger on the trigger of his firearm. "Get away from each other."

"We're not armed!" Carrie gasped and clung to Brody harder. The warmth of her rounded stomach pressing into the small of his cold wet back.

Brody's eyes bulged as if suddenly becoming aware of a shocking truth. Something precious belonging to both of them that he needed to protect. "If you hurt her…"

Turani's voice was low and menacing. "Who has the cell phone? With the messages in Farsi?"

"I do," breathed Quinn, raindrops flicking off long eyelashes as his eyes darted down to his jacket pocket.

"Give it to me," growled Turani, a dripping hand and muscular forearm reaching out. "Now."

"What the hell are you playing at, Turani?" Quinn whispered hoarsely. "Who are you working for? Javadi? Akbari? Or are you and Brody in this together? Has he turned you against your own country?"

"My own country?" Turani pffted and wiped moisture off his dark beard. "You think this is about countries? I'm an American-Iranian I love both countries… but I despise betrayal. And I despise terrorism…"

"Whatever your game is… it's over Turani," Quinn interjected. "We rang Saul. A tactical team will be here any moment to take you down."

"Take me down?" Turani looked disbelieving. "You mean to take Brody down?"

"This has nothing to do with me," yelped Brody. "He's lying. It's his cell phone."

"What the fuck's going on?" demanded Carrie, her blonde hair sodden and ratty. "Who's been ringing and texting General Akbari? Sharing our secret mission plans with him?"

"Everyone shut up now. Get in the car," Turani looked strained as he gestured with his gun erratically. "All of you. Quinn you drive. Brody - sit next to him. Carrie get in the back with me."

What's this about? Stress? A breakdown? Quinn didn't move. His brain trying to process the motives and implications of his friend behaving so completely out of character. Was Turani really working for the Iranians? A double agent? He couldn't believe it. More likely Brody. Or both of them?

"I said," Turani stepped forwards, jabbing the icy metal barrel of his dripping gun against Quinn's taut throat. "Get. In. The. Fucking. Car."


End file.
